


3. Nightmares/Bad Dreams

by FuryBeam136



Series: Fury does goretober 2019 [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Goretober, Goretober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 02:14:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20899973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuryBeam136/pseuds/FuryBeam136
Summary: Dimitri dreams of the dead.





	3. Nightmares/Bad Dreams

Dimitri dreams of the dead. Nothing new there, of course, but he’s tired of their incessant pestering and the blood that drips from their bodies and the reek of death. Dimitri hates the stench above all else. He is used to it, as with everything else, but it is still so unpleasant and distressing.

They scream and beg and cry and half of it is nothing but meaningless noise now but Dimitri just knows they’re disappointed, angry. They always are. He screams back because he doesn’t know what else to do, screams and screams until his throat is raw and he’s waking up but the stench of death is still there and he’s still screaming and it hurts, it hurts so much.

His heart beats frantically against his chest and there’s someone at his side (he faintly registers Dedue’s voice) and he’s shaking so much. His hands are trembling and the eyes of the dead bore holes into his back and Dimitri can’t breathe, his lungs are heaving for air but nothing seems to filter through.

It feels like an eternity before the smoke and ash no longer streaks the sky, the taste of blood and fire no longer sits heavy on Dimitri’s tongue. And he’s safe, inside, wrapped in blankets but still shivering because this shivering is unrelated to cold. The shivering is from fear and anger and a thousand other emotions in between and who is Dimitri to identify them? Even if he tried, it would be in vain.

He cries into bloodstained bedsheets that even the most meticulous of people can’t remove the red from, lets himself inhale the stench of rot and death and decay, and slips slowly but inevitably back towards tortured sleep, where the dead stare at him and mock him and dance around courtyards and ballrooms as if they were alive…

He lets the tears flow, and he screams. Everyone knows better than to come in while he’s in this state. Everyone knows better than to provoke the boar prince. Because that’s all Dimitri is. A wild beast.

(In the depths of his dreaming a hand holds his, and he hears himself whisper though his lips do not move, "Were your hands always this warm...?")

(They chase away his demons for the night and he sleeps restfully for the first time in years.)


End file.
